Seeing Greg
by FuryFaerie
Summary: Nick never imagined he could give up on Greg, but he also never predicted that the smiles would disappear. Nick/Greg.


Nick loved it when Greg smiled. The grin, the excited laugh, even the smirk, were all so infectious that it made him believe, just for a moment, that bad things never happened. In Nick's line of work, Greg was nothing short of a blessing. It was inspiring to know that at least someone was happy, someone could stay positive when the world looked to Nick look such a terribly evil place. And it was fair and completely understandable that, protected by the four glass walls of his DNA lab, that person would be and should be Greg.

Nick thought having Greg in his life was the best thing for a lonely CSI who was beginning to lose the point of it all.

Seeing Greg aroused was… arousing, to say the least, and seeing him in the throes of passion, arching, gasping, clinging to Nick's shoulders like a lifeline, was a picture unimaginable to anyone who had never bore witness to the sight. Afterward, as Greg's eyes fluttered shut in a show of trusting relaxation, Nick told himself that if he could somehow freeze the passing of time during those small moments and extend Greg's bliss into infinity, that everything would be alright, and no one would ever have to hurt again.

Time passed those moments by anyway, frequent as they became, and when Nick was finally able to see past them, Greg had broken free from the safety of his DNA cocoon. The metamorphosis from lab tech to Crime Scene Investigator level one was a transformation Nick didn't fully understand, but he knew it meant they would be seeing more of each other, and couldn't find it in himself to complain about that.

When Greg started coming home with deep sighs and waking up with even deeper bags under his eyes, Nick almost couldn't handle it. Greg had already seen too much, his innocence was corrupted but still there, and in his mind Nick protested, _Not him, not Greg!_ whenever he found evidence of his lover's emotional torment. Greg did not deserve to know the world for what it was. Nick longed to bring back the glass walls, to wrap up the man he loved with so much care he would never see the light of day. But it seemed that Greg only got more and more of the most distressing cases: rape, torture, murder, and Nick had to wonder if Grissom was secretly trying to harden him, as he had likely done with Nick years ago.

Greg entered Nick's apartment one morning, sat down just inside the door, and would not get up again. Eyes dry and staring, he didn't even twitch when Nick came home an hour and a half later. Panicked and desperate, Nick tried hugging, tickling, kissing him everywhere he could think of in an attempt to draw any kind of reaction, but Greg only collapsed further into himself, voicing his desire to just curl up and die. Nick stopped, because time stopped, only not when he had wanted it to.

He never imagined he could give up on Greg, but he also never predicted that the smiles would disappear. His decision then was not a logical one, but he didn't know what else he could do.

"Greg, I'm sorry man, but I just can't be with you when you're like this. It's…" He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. "It's over. I'm sorry, but it has to be."

At first he was shocked, eyes wide as if Nick had smacked him hard across the face. Then slowly, dramatically, and then picking up momentum, the tears came, and they never had before. Greg's eyes shut tightly, so tight, trying so hard to shut it all out. Nick stood up and looked away in shame, but he couldn't ignore that awful sound Greg made, just once; a groan of guttural pain. After that there was only labored breathing until the door to Nick's apartment opened once, closed once, for good, and left him with nothing.

"I'm sorry," Nick mumbled, feeling his own wave of hysteria approaching. "Greg, god, I'm so sorry," and he knew the whole ordeal was the result of his own damn weakness, but the realization was far too late. Seeing Greg cry had torn apart the very fibers of his soul, and he knew he had never cared about anything more.

Life went on, as life tends to, but the world inside Nick's head was empty. Every time he saw Greg he would turn away, and when it was necessary that they speak, he never met the younger man's eyes directly. It made him the worst kind of person, he knew, and eventually he asked Grissom to put them on separate cases from then on. He wasn't sure about the extent of Grissom's intuition, but his supervisor agreed it was for the best, at least for the time being. Nick found the situation easier after that, until the night he found out about Greg's first solo case. He was bitter, and he didn't know why exactly, but somewhere deep down, he wished, cruelly, for Greg to fail.

Seeing Greg in the hospital changed everything. Knowing that Greg had been frightened, beaten, heckled, spit on, bred an anger so deep in Nick, he felt ready to explode at the next person he spoke to. He felt it as a flame rising in his throat whenever he thought about what had happened to Greg, and a blade in his heart whenever he actually looked at him, small and frail in the stiff hospital bed. The bruises, cuts, _both_ swollen eyes, and the palpable fear within Greg that Nick could feel even before the younger man awoke. He knew, one hundred percent, without a doubt, that it was his own fault. It had been his job, his self-designated _purpose_ to take care of Greg, and he had failed on every single level.

Greg let out a soft moan, and Nick, the only visitor left that night, was immediately standing at his bedside, hands shaking, breathing hitched. He had a momentary panic where he despaired over the thought that Greg wouldn't forgive him. But then those puffy eyes were open and Nick was drowning in endless pools of gold.

"My god, you're actually here." Greg's hoarse voice held a note of amusement but the CSI himself looked a little anxious at the other man's presence. He sighed and gave Nick a calculating once over and then stubbornly trained his eyes on the ceiling. It served him right, Nick reasoned, after all the times he couldn't bear to look at his former lover.

"I'm sorry." Stupid. He was so _stupid _that he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Yeah," Greg replied indulgently, "I know you are. Your sketchiness never fooled me, you know. I can tell a guilty Stokes from an apathetic jerk any day."

Nick wasn't sure if Greg was being friendly or not, so he kept trying.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, knowing everything that had come out of his mouth so far was completely lame, but unable to stop himself.

Greg opened his mouth, about to offer some sarcastic comment, but fell into a sudden terrible coughing fit instead. Nick's eyes widened noticeably at the wet sound that joined each hacking cough. Before he knew what he was doing, he had climbed into the bed and was rubbing soothing circles between Greg's shoulder blades.

Pained tears leaked out the corners of Greg's eyes, the salt stinging the wounds on his face, and this time Nick did not look away. He wiped away the moisture with the pad of his calloused thumb, careful not to agitate any of the cuts. The coughing tapered off after a minute, and Greg leaned forward, letting his head fall on Nick's shoulder.

"That really hurt," he complained, and Nick couldn't help the short mirthless laugh that followed.

"I'm so sorry."

"Broken record, Nick."

"I know, I'm…" But he stopped himself this time. Greg looked up and scanned his face for a moment, and then they both dissolved into quiet, helpless laughter.

"Wow. You totally almost said it again."

"Yeah yeah, shut it. You know I really mean it." They stopped laughing as Nick searched for the right words. "I was wrong," he put it out there, feeling like it was a good start. "You were there for me all the time, my one piece of a good thing." His voice cracked, and his accent started to come on a little thicker.

Greg reached out and wrapped his arms around the other man, burying his face in Nick's chest. _Go on_, he thought, and Nick continued.

"And when there came the time when you needed me in the same way, I ran. I was wrong," he said again, and Greg could tell from his tone that he was on the verge of tears. He felt all the anger and pain begin to seep away; he didn't want Nick to hurt like this, no matter how much of an idiot he was.

"I don't deserve you Greg."

Greg shifted a bit, and when he was sure Nick was done talking, he inhaled deeply, and sighed heavily.

"I miss you."

Nick almost couldn't make out the words that were muffled by Greg's face pressed into his own shirt. But he did hear him and he laughed unhappily at the melancholy injustice of it all.

"God, G. I miss you too." A loud rumble crept up from Greg's stomach, breaking the tense emotional moment, and they both laughed again.

"Hold on a sec," Nick told him, climbing down from the bed. He left Greg to twiddle his thumbs for a minute or two, and returned carrying a tray table with eggs, two triangles of toast, and orange juice.

"Aw sweet, breakfast in bed! Nicky, you shouldn't have." He gaped at the unappealing hospital food in mock astonishment.

"Just eat it Greg, you need some nourishment," he ordered, setting the tray carefully over Greg's lap and resuming his bedside chair.

Greg tore off a huge chunk of the dry toast with his teeth and proceeded to choke it down with exaggerated drama. He then fell quiet, sipping his orange juice contentedly and glancing up at a spacey Nick every few seconds.

After he was finished, Greg rested back against the paper pillowcase, enjoying the companionable silence. He turned to Nick, who still looked faraway and upset. He reached out and grabbed the older man's hand, pulling it over to rest on his own chest, over the place where his heart was hidden.

"Thanks babe," he said sincerely, not really knowing what exactly he was grateful for.

Nick stared at him for a moment, surprised, and then stood to hover over the bed, trembling and speechless.

He hesitated, but only for a second, and then he slowly, so slow that Greg felt time in the room was warping, brought his mouth down to press gently on Greg's bruised one. Greg reached up with his better arm and swept his fingers through Nick's short crop of brown hair, deepening the kiss.

When Nick finally pulled away, Greg grinned, making his lips split painfully in a few places, but the sight seemed no less breathtaking to Nick.

"You asking me to move back in with you, Tex?"

Nick threw his head back and let out a single sob, the tears finally escaping from behind his eyes and streaking rapidly down his face. Greg saw this and, though the sight tore at his heartstrings, he simply beamed his grin that much brighter. For Nicholas.

Finally, _finally._

Nick loved it when Greg smiled.

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My first CSI fic. Yay!


End file.
